


The Sailor and the... Mermaid?

by Birdgirl



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Mentions of Aradia, Scaaaary shaaaarks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-12
Updated: 2012-12-18
Packaged: 2017-11-18 12:19:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/561013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Birdgirl/pseuds/Birdgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Homestuck AU- maybe I'll call it Atlantisstuck. Or maybe I'll find a name that isn't so lame...</p><p>Captain Captor is head honcho of the Aradia, a treasure-hunting ship searching the Indian Ocean for the most ultimate find- Atlantis. After months of searching and finding nothing, Captor's sponsor is hard-pressed and reluctant to keep the project going. Captor's determination is wearing thin. Until, that is, something gets caught in the fishermen's net…</p><p>(For the AU's purposes, Eridan and Feferi are siblings, as are Sollux and Aradia)</p><p>ON HAITUS UNTIL MAY</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Money Problems

**Author's Note:**

> A work in progress. The most fun part about posting a story like this is that even though I don't know exactly where I'm going with it, or how many chapters it'll have, I've committed myself to writing it, just by posting it.  
> Now, if those damn squirrels would quit distracting me...

The captain hesitated, pacing his room. His radio was yelling at him- or, more accurately, the person on the other end of it. It was because of this person that he didn't want to answer- so he just stood there, pacing around his captain's dorm...

"Captor, do you read me? Captor. CAPTOR."

You take a deep breath, closing your eyes. Of all the times, why did you have to get this call now? You were so close to your goal… maybe...

"Fuck you Captor, if you don't answer me right now, I swear I'll stick this radio so far up your-"

You pick up the radio and press down to reply.

"Yeth, Mr. Vantath, I am tho thorry for my late connection, we were in the middle of a routine-"

"Routine WHAT, Captain? Did I interrupt you swabbing the decks with your toothbrushes? Or have you found an even more infuriating way to waste my time and money? I was hoping this "Search for Atlantis" was the worst torture you had! What's next- licking the trays clean instead of washing them? Or maybe straightening every crease on your beds before breakfast?"

"Thir, I understand your fruthtration, but-"

"But? BUT? But WHAT? No, Captor, not to worry- I think your lack of progress is fucking brilliant. Why, it seems you've made it a routine! I pay for all you nooksuckers to get on your little ship with your fancy little fucking machines so you can all play merrily like pirates and find mermaids in the sea! Coming to DVD and Blue ray this spring! Rated R for inducing thoughts of suicide from SHEER BOREDOM, lack of any fucking plot whatsoever, and unwarranted victims of bankruptcy! And that would be me, if you hadn't guessed..."

He went on like this for a while. You were fairly used to his yelling, but as Captain and head of the Atlantis Project (you came up with the name yourself), you knew it wasn't wise to argue with your by-far largest sponsor. Despite his bitchy personality, Vantas had a right to be angry, and you knew it. Almost two years of searching by ship, and all you'd found was a few abandoned ships and deceptively-shaped seaweed. That was fun to explain to the sponsors.

As Captain of a ship, you were entitled to some pride and much prestige amongst your crew, but to a multi-billionaire like Karkat Vantas (Head of Vantas inc., specializing in finding treatments for Cancer), you were worth only as much as you could put out. And what you could put out now, unfortunately, was your rather sadly developed skill of sucking up.

"Yeth, Mr. Vantas... Correct, Mr. Vantas… Thank you, Mr. Vantas…"

The line goes dead, but not before you hear a thump. The rich bitch probably threw his radio at the wall. But that didn't much matter to the you. You had your own ship to worry about, so let the billionaire bitch a bit, you had work to do, and you'd just bought his crew yet another month. you just hoped that this month wouldn't be another waste of time.

/

15 sand™ dollars. That's all you have left. Literally, just 15 sand™ dollars. Not enough for rent, not enough for water purification, not enough to pay the eels to light up your home so you don't swim into things. You doubt it's even enough to buy dinner- you're so tired of cup-of-seaweed that your brain might just explode.

No, being a merman in these times isn't easy. The economy sucks, the king was a rich bastard who threw taxes at you right and left (not that you would say that to anybody), and your boss is a real crab. No, really, you swear he must be half crustacean. If paying bills wasn't hard enough, you had your sister to take care of, too- not that she was a burden, no way, you loved your sister- but you also had to take care of her.

As your mood begins to sink, so do you. Soon you're at the bottom of your reef, clutching your head in your purple-webbed hands, pulling at your purple-streaked black hair. What, in Titan's name, were you going to tell Fef when she got home from school?

"Allo, little fishie. Wot's your name, then?"

You jump at the voice, looking up abruptly. Oh no, oh cod no. You start to swim away, flapping your tail as fast as you can. What are sharks doing here? These ones look like wanted criminals, with scars on their fins from fighting something brutal. Looks like the something brutal lost.

Looks like you lost, too. There are two of them, and they swim much faster than you. Soon you're cornered, with your back pressed up against the side of the reef.

"Aw, come now, fishie, we ain't here to hurtcha. Just a couple a nice sharks on a little stroll, an' we heard ya muttering. So ya need some extra sand™ dollas, do ya, fishie? Come now, tell us, we won't bite." Said the first shark- obviously the leader.

Then the shark smiled. It had a few teeth missing in places, but more than enough left to make sushi out of you. And just because he said he wouldn't bite, doesn’t mean he couldn't bite. Not by far. You sort of liked your life, poor and pitiful as it may be, so you decide to play along- A.K.A., do what the sharks wanted.

"M-m-my name's Ampora. Ww-wwhale, that's my last name, I-I guess you'd probably be wwantin' my first name, too, an' that's… er…"

The first shark started laughing. "Heh heh, aw, don't tire yerself, fishie. So, mister amp'ra, as I were saying, we got a perfect job for ya. Pay ya lots a money, so you's can take care of that little girlie of yours. Ya see, me an' my friend here got ourselves a shady business, getting things our client wants- for more than 15 sand™ dollas, I can tell ye that- Heh heh heh!"

"But ya see," he went on, "Theres's just some things a shark can't get into. We're too big, y'see. Things like little vaults, getting little things, like crowns and such. An' I think you'd be the best fishie for the job…"

Stealing from the king? No, that was blasphemy! If you were caught you'd get a lifetime sentence for treason, or worse. As far as you knew, stealing Titan's crown meant a death sentence. And then what would Fef do? She just started middle school- who would be there to take care of her? But if you did succeed, the sharks promised to give you and Fef enough money to get on just fine- in fact, quite more than fine.

You don't care what it costs you. If Fef could possibly have a better life, then so be it. 

You're going to steal King Titan's crown.

/

You look out off the side of your ship, watching the waves roll and slap up against the steel sides. You read the name again, as you have so many times before. Written in red cursive lettering, the Aradia is your one reminder of someone lost, lost a long time ago.

You've been lost for a while, too. Looking for some lost city ruins, pretending to be Captain Nero, except finding mermaids instead of monsters. And to think it all started out as a bedtime story, becoming a good grade in history, a service in the navy, a major in ancient civilizations and a minor in oceanography. Look where all of it's gotten you. Again, looking for mermaids. Sometimes you think you've gone completely nuts.

You ask yourself, is it even worth continuing? You stare far into the distance, out to the sea, far into the horizon. The sea gives you no answers, but your instincts do. You know you're close, but you don't know how you know this, or even how close you are. You really must be going bonkers.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh my cod, has it already been more than a month?  
> More on the relevant side of things, is there a "horrible authors" club? For all those authors that get an amazing story idea in their head, then start writing and get so excited that they don't plan properly and before they know it all they've written is posted and they can't think of what to write and they feel like giving up but have an almost duty to their story so they won't and are so frustrated...  
> You're right this is no longer in any way hypothetical.  
> But, I love you guys, love your kudos, comments, etc. And so I will keep writing.  
> And maybe, just maybe, I'll plan better next time.

Whale, that did just fuckin' perfectly, now didn't it? The sharks told you everything you needed to know. You set a date and everything. Now it was official- you were going to steal Titan's crown, and Fef was going to get a better life. You think you should have felt better about it than you did. After all, everyone does something illegal once in a while, right? Like, speeding, or, littering, or, stealing your supreme ruler's most powerful object. Okay, probably not that last one, but you like to tell yourself it counts.

Fef knows nothing about this, of course. You would never tell her, you could never tell her. Right now, she was just a measly 13 years old, attending middle school- she shouldn't have to grow up as fast as you did. Yes, you're only 17, but you didn't have the choice of staying a kid. You used to be a happy little guppy, back before your parents were poisoned by an oil spill off the coast of India. Now you have to grow up, though- time to be a merman.

You're heading towards the Laccadive Sea, nearly due south of the tip of India, just south of the Maldives, as. This is where the vault holding the crown is held, on a platform in the middle of a large trench. You thought, at first, that it would be at the castle, but it made sense, for security reasons, that he wouldn't just leave it on his bedside rock. Wait, did Titan even have a bedside rock? Why would kings need something like that? No, no, you're getting distracted- time to get back on track.

The sharks left you a while back at the sea border with a fake ID and enough sand dollars to pay for 3 month's rent- and a promise of much more when you came back with the crown. You wondered why they didn't come with- but for all you knew they were probably wanted criminals in this part of the ocean, too. This didn't make you feel any better.

However, your feelings didn't really matter very much right now- at least, not as much as Fef mattered to you. That's why you were doing this, after all- to give her a chance at a better life. And it wouldn't be that difficult- the fake ID you were given looked really convincing, and it would probably get you into the inner works of the facility easier than a crab trying to walk sideways.

You take a deep breath at the entrance. Two uniformed and highly equipped swordfish guard it, swimming back and forth over the door, looking nearly as intimidating as the sharks you just left. Taking yet another breath, you swim forward so that you are facing the two fish. Each one is at least half a meter taller than you. You look up to each one, staring for a minute, before you find your voice.

"E-excuse me, good sirs. My name is… er… inspector Vvictor Wwhalestein… er… and I'm here to… inspect the vvaults… for se- for security measures, and, um…"

"ID." comes the gruff response, and you are secretly glad he's put a stop to your mumbling. You really need to learn to quit doing that. You show him the ID card, trying hard not to let your hand shake, and after a minute he turns around and smacks a button on the side of the building, opening the doors into a dark cave.

"Well. Aren't you going?" the guard sighs impatiently. The look is almost funny on a swordfish, but you don't think it would be wise to say so. Instead you hurry along, down into the deep, dark cave.

/

"No. I just, no- I can't believe this. Captor, I swear if I get one more bad report this will all be over. I have spent literally millions on this project and all you've come back with is a sunken cruise ship. ATLANTIS my ASS. Captor? Are you even listening? Can't you get this into your think, thick, thicker-than-your-lisp thinkpan? Because I can talk slower, Captor- I can talk LOUDER if you need me to. I can-"

At this point you couldn't hear the rest of what he had to say, you were too busy smothering your face into your pillow. This- this was hell. There was no progress, and it had been another week. For a minute you forgot about your navy training, your college degree- and lay facedown on your pillow, groaning like a teenager. If Mr. Vantas could hear your attempt at a reply, he would assume the message was being delivered by a dying whale. However, he was too busy talking to really be doing much listening, anyways.

"One more month, Captor. Just one more, do you hear me? That's all you get. I've been fucking patient enough as it is, dammit. Did you think this would go on forever? This Captain Nero shit? Oh, or was it Prince Eric, searching for the redheaded sea princess? You know who gives a fuck? Nobody. But I'm nice- I'm not like those other billionaire bitches who spend all their time in politics and propaganda and all that bullshit- I'm no Strider. That's why, I'm giving you one more month, Captor. One month to get this show on the road, to whip your ass into shape. And then, you ask? And then, Captain, it's OVER."

The radio has gone silent. You let out another moan, a ridiculously drawn out sigh, of annoyance, and anger, and exasperation, and despair and frustration and… hopelessness.

 

Maybe this wasn't such a good idea, after all.


End file.
